


Getting To Know You

by PurpleD54



Series: Casual [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleD54/pseuds/PurpleD54
Summary: What can happen at SHIELD behind the scenes especially if there are no current missions.Be careful what you wish for.





	Getting To Know You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these Marvel babies. Just like to take them out for a joy ride.  
> This part comes after Casual. You will need to read that first.

            When Clint Barton woke up alone in the morning, he wondered if the day before  had been a dream. Then his eyes fell on the bedside table. There was a flash drive laying there that had not been there when Phil left last night. Under it was a purple post-it-note: I have a file on you. It's only fair you get a file on me. Owen Spencer.

            Clint laughed.

            "Damn Ninja."

            Clint grabbed the flash drive and jumped out of bed, curiosity clutching at his throat. This was a-before coffee, before shower, before _everything_ -kind of thing. He hurried to his laptop and turned it on, pacing while it warmed up. He plugged in the flash drive anxious to see what Coulson would be willing to reveal.

            When the first image appeared, Clint burst into a delighted laugh. He sat down to scroll through more. The first picture was a much younger Phil Coulson in R&D wearing the same baggy jeans and glittery purple shirt with white fringe that Bob made Clint try on. There were several pictures though. Phil had struck a pose with the shirt wrapped around him but holding out one side as if flashing the onlooker. Then there was a pose with his back to the camera and holding both sides of the shirt out. Another one had his back to the camera and the shirt hanging loose but Phil was reaching up as if opening the snaps on the cuffs over his head. _The Agent had some untapped possibilities._ The final picture showed Phil on one knee with the tails of the shirt tied in a knot over his chest in a big finish with hands outstretched and a big smile on his face. Clint had never seen that smile before. Phil never smiled like that now. It became an immediate goal of Clint's to make Phil smile like that.

            Just as Clint was ready to scroll through more of the flash drive, his phone rang. It was Coulson. Clint swiped the screen to accept the call and said,

            "You like that purple shirt."

            "I was just trying to have fun." Phil said, "Do you know that every agent that goes to R&D gets to try on that outfit? But that's a secret which you have to keep because Bob would never forgive me. And yes there are pictures. Even yours. Which I have."

            "Ninja. Or maybe you have magic. Does magic exist? I think you would be the only person to know."

            "That's classified," Phil snarked. "I called to find out if you have any plans for today and if you want to help me with something."

            "No plans and yes, I can help you with whatever you need. Do you need to move some furniture? I'm good at that. Is this part of the new hangout, go slow plan?"

            "Yes, it's part of the Barton Plan, but it's also me being a bit selfish because I need some help. But no furniture moving. I'll be there in 20 and dress in your worst clothes."

            "Um, you don't know what you are asking for, sir, um Phil. I would look homeless."

            "That's perfect," crowed Phil. "See you in a few."

            Clint hung up the phone and looked sadly at his computer. The rest of the file would have to wait until later but then he perked up. He was going somewhere with Phil. He hurried for the shower. There was no time to spare.

            When the knock on his door came a bit later, Clint was ready. As he opened the door, both Clint's and Phil's mouths hung open. Phil was the first to move. He came in and kissed Clint on the cheek.

            "You look perfect," he whispered. Clint was wearing tight ripped jeans and an old green tee shirt with a design on it so worn out it wasn't readable any more. His bomber jacket was old and worn out with scrapes on the elbows and one side. The leather was faded, the color muddled but butter soft and looked lived in. He was wearing eye liner, the artful smudges made him look dangerous. His oldest boots had laces with knots in them where they had broken and been retied and were scuffed and shabby.

            "Now, you can help me," said Phil, "It feels like something isn't quite right but I don't know what to change." Clint eyed Phil. He was dressed in tight worn jeans and scuffed boots. He had a gray Henley on and a leather motorcycle jacket with straps and zippers all looking suitably worn.

            "Come with me. Take off the Henley. Mad Dog would never wear one." Clint said stepping into the bedroom and was digging into a drawer. "Here, wear this instead. Everything else is good." Phil caught the worn shirt Clint had thrown to him.

            "Mad Dog?" Phil said stripping off the leather jacket and the Henley. He pulled on the tight red tank top noticing how much of his chest hair showed at the top and put the jacket back on. He also noticed how Clint's eyes gleamed at the sight of his muscles but he didn't mention them.

            "Yes, Mad Dog. You apparently have a personal mission you are planning. So this will help." Clint explained. He dug into a different dresser drawer and pulled out a red bandana and some white sunglasses.

            "Here. C'mere," Clint motioned him over. "With these, no one will recognize you." Phil came closer. Clint tied the bandana on so it covered the top of Phil's head then handed him the white thick-framed sunglasses to put on.

            "Yes, no one wears white sunglasses but are you going to tell Mad Dog that? Okay, game face time." said Clint. Phil put on the sunglasses and looked in the mirror hanging over the dresser making his face cold and stern. The pair of them looked badass and unapproachable.

            "Of course, it would be better if you had some tattoos on your face but beggars can't be choosers," sighed Clint.

            "Next time. Promise," laughed Phil.

            "Ok, what is this mission all about?" asked Clint.

            "I'll tell you all about it in the car. We have to go. Come on." Phil was like an excited 12-year old.

            They collected drive-through coffee and breakfast and headed out. Phil told him about his Captain America collection. One of his favorite places to get pieces for his collection was at a huge weekly flea market. One of the vendors there had some really good finds but only showed up there about once every 6 months. He recognized Phil and often charged him more because he wanted certain pieces so much. So Phil tried to use disguises. It worked even better if he had someone else who would pay for items so that his name didn't pop up on a credit card. Phil would of course, pay him back. Phil kept track of this vendor through his website which had his itinerary on it. Phil was especially excited today because it had been a long time since the vendor had been to this flea market.

            "So the big thing is to act casual and not attract attention or get excited over what I'm looking at. And that will be hard for me," Phil admitted.

            "Hey, I am the King of Casual. So don't worry about me. If you don't talk and just grunt, I'm sure he'll believe the Mad Dog persona. You just hand me whatever you want to buy and tell me the book value and I'll ask the price. We can use subtle hand motions like on a mission. When you get a price you like, I'll pay for it." Clint was having fun planning this. It was a side of Phil that he had never seen before and doubted if anyone at SHIELD had ever seen it either.

            "Thanks for doing this for me, Clint. It will be 6 months before he's back in this area again. He goes all over the country which is why he's able to find all kinds of things." Phil's voice was quiet and felt small and out of character.

            "Hey, Mad Dog! You can do this. It'll be fine. Just imagine all the cool stuff we are going to find for your collection." Clint's gung ho speech was encouraging and Phil felt his customary confidence wrap around him. He smiled at Clint as they pulled into the parking lot after their 2-hour drive. Phil handed Clint 500.00 in cash with a money clip around it. The understated _PJC_ etched into the money clip was elegant and classy. This was the designated stash for the day.

            "You know that Hawk would never carry this," Clint laughed.

            "You lifted it off a dude in a stupid suit," Phil explained with a laugh, "Okay let's go scope out the lay of the land."

They strolled through the flea market, seeing and being seen. They had lunch at one of the wagons. Hot dogs with all the fixings, french fries and cold coke. It felt like kismet when Clint pulled a coke bottle out of the display case and it had the name _Phil_ on the side. Phil snickered but didn't say anything. When they sat at a small table in the corner of the tent, a mother with 2 young children got up and left quickly.

            "It's the white sunglasses, Mad Dog." Clint whispered. Phil smiled. He didn't want to look quite that scary but what are ya gonna do? He didn't have control over all the people around them. They ate quickly and made plans to grab some funnel cake later on the way out. Clint insisted on taking the coke bottle back to the car. They strolled around some more and finally made their way to the vendor Phil wanted. The bright colored posters were inviting. They walked into the tent and Clint stopped short staring at a poster over the cash register. It was for the World's Greatest Marksman from some old circus. The young boy was wearing a glittery purple jumpsuit. The poster claimed _He Never Misses_. Phil snorted.

            "I bet he's never seen you shoot," Phil scoffed. "Look, he even has a bow." Phil looked at Clint who had frozen in place. Phil shook him a bit. Clint looked at him in panic and ran out of the tent. Phil looked at the poster again and realized that it was Clint's fabulous eyes staring at him from the poster. There was nothing about Clint's early life in his file. He had never talked about it. And Clint's old life had just risen up and smacked him in the face from out of nowhere.

            "Oh hell," Phil swore. He hurriedly bought the poster not even haggling over the price and ran out of the tent and back to the car hoping to find Clint there. Nothing. Phil stashed the poster in the trunk and pulled off the bandana and the white sunglasses and took out his air horn can. He wandered around the outskirts of the market for a bit and noticed some woods nearby. He headed over that way wondering how he would find Clint in all those trees. _Duh, air horn._ He squealed off a long single honk, then honked out _HAWK_ in Morse code. A tree branch began shaking. Phil waited and within a few moments, Clint came out of the woods. He looked like he'd seen a ghost and Phil pulled him in for a hug then started walking back to the car pulling Clint along.

            Phil put Clint into the car and shut the door. Clint had not said a word since he had walked out of the woods. Phil got in on his side, started up the car and drove off. Clint closed his eyes but his body was tense, rigid and hard. Phil drove to his own place and parked. They didn't speak during the long drive. Phil opened Clint's car door but Clint didn't move or respond.

            "Come with me," Phil ordered using his _Agent Coulson_ voice. Clint opened his eyes. There was no recognition in them but he started to move. Phil led him gently by the hand up to his apartment. He unlocked the door and pulled Clint inside and locked the door behind them. He led Clint to his bedroom and started taking off his jacket. There was no response in Clint's eyes. Phil stripped both of them down to boxer briefs and got out nice soft tee shirts for both of them and got them into bed. Phil held Clint in his arms. Clint was still stiff and unresponsive. Phil rubbed his back, long soothing strokes, over and over. He murmured to Clint that he was safe and that he was okay. Clint's breath finally hitched into a cough or maybe a sob and then he closed his eyes and went loose. All the tension and drama leaked out in one big ragged breath. His hands latched onto Phil's shirt. His body shook.

            "Shhhh," Phil whispered, "You're okay. Nothing is going to hurt you. You are fine. I'm keeping you here at my place. You don't have to do anything but sleep." Phil kept up the litany of comfort words. Clint's breath eased and slowed to a normal sleeping pattern. His hands gradually loosened as he fell asleep and his body calmed. Phil was sad that his little trip had caused Clint this much hurt. He kept up the comfort words and strokes but it was a long time before Phil fell asleep.

*****

            Early in the morning just before sunrise, Clint's body jerked. Phil immediately woke up and started the comfort words again. He stroked his hands down Clint's back but was careful not to hold him too tight in case he felt caged. Clint's eyes popped open, hyper alert as he moved his hand with jerky motions searching under the pillow as if looking for a weapon.

            "Shhhh, it's me Phil. You're okay Clint. You're at my place. You are safe. No one will hurt you." Phil repeated the soothing words a few times. Clint's eyes went from hyper alert to a more calm state but still attentive. Finally he spoke,

            "Where are we?"

            "You are at my place," Phil replied and spouted off the address knowing Clint needed as much information as possible right now.

            "I need to do a perimeter check," Clint decided.

            "I'll show you around and start some coffee," said Phil knowing that further sleep was out the window. "Come on. It's this way." Clint dressed in a few seconds and pulled a knife from his boot. Phil recognized that it was a comfort thing and unlocked a biometric drawer in his dresser and pulled out a gun and handed it to Clint.

            "Just in case," Phil said, "I want you to feel safe." Phil watched as Clint expertly ejected the clip and checked the bullets, reloaded and pushed off the safety and chambered a bullet. Phil pulled on some sweats. Clint was careful to hold the gun down at his side as they walked through the apartment with Phil chattering along the way. They stopped in the kitchen where Phil started up the coffee maker and they both sat down at the table. Clint put the safety back on and laid the gun on the table.

            "Did we just spend the night together? What happened to the slow down plan?"

            "There was no sex. That was just comfort for a friend. How are you?" Phil asked, "and you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I just need to know where your head is."

            "I guess I'm kind of a scary Barton Friend, huh?" Clint said. "I bet you never expected this."

            "Yeah, none of this was in your file but every agent at SHIELD gets nightmares." Phil admitted. "You can't get away from me that easy but I'm thinking you might want to talk to someone in Psych. Just to, you know, help put everything back in the mental box or to sort it out. That is what they're there for."

            "I have to think about that. Most of the time I'm good but it was just a surprise to see that poster. It brought a lot of stuff back."

            "Oh?" said Phil, "Good? Bad? Ugly?"

            "Huh, all of the above," admitted Clint, his voice shaky. "I don't want to talk about it much but the last time I saw that poster was when my mentor and my brother beat me up, stabbed me and left me for dead, and the circus moved on without me. I was 16. After laying in a ditch for half a day I crawled over to a telephone pole and pulled myself up and there was a poster at eye level. That was the first thing I thought of when I saw the poster in the tent. That's what pushed me off the deep end."

            "Oh my god, Clint," said Phil pulling Clint out of the chair and into a hug. "I'm so sorry my little field trip did this to you. I would have never brought you along if I knew that could happen." Phil kissed Clint's forehead and hugged him harder. The coffee machine buzzed and Phil sighed as he turned to fix them both cups of coffee. Phil stirred 2 sugars into one of the cups and handed it to Clint but drank his own plain black.

            "How did you know how I drink my coffee?"

            "I've been watching you for 3 years. I know a lot about you. But not this." Phil hugged him again.

            "I'll be okay. I need to do some normal stuff like shoot my bow and relax a bit."

            "We can do that," said Phil. " We'll get dressed and drive over to your place and pick up your bow. I'd love to watch you if that's all right. And we can go eat at the diner when we're done. You know, casual."

            "That sounds like fun but you don't have to babysit me sir." Clint said a bit stiffly.

            "Clint, you are my friend. You are the gift I gave to myself. I mucked up your brain yesterday but I still want to spend time with you. Is that okay?"

            "Sorry, I'm not a very good friend."

            "Me neither," admitted Phil. "I guess we'll just have to muddle through together. Just give me 5 minutes to change my clothes. I can do better than Mad Dog for today."

            "Five minutes," said Clint holding up his wrist pretending he was wearing a watch and timing him. Phil choked out a laugh and hurried down the hall to the bedroom.

Phil was back in 3 minutes wearing jeans and sneakers and a royal blue tee shirt that made his eyes pop. He was pulling on a gray hoodie when he saw Clint eyeing him.

            "What?" Phil asked.

            "You look good enough to eat," Clint said. "Definitely not Mad Dog today."

            Phil and Clint stopped at Clint's apartment so Clint could change clothes and grab his bow case. They went to a range Clint frequented that was not at headquarters. Since it was early Sunday morning, there was no one else there and Clint relaxed a bit and started his stretches.

            Once he started shooting, he relaxed even more. He was wearing an old gold sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off showing his enormous arms.  Phil was fascinated watching Clint shoot. The smooth symmetry of it, the _nock, pull, release,_ over and over, his muscles bulging with the pull of the bowstring and the rhythmic release of both muscle and arrow settled them both.

            As Clint relaxed, he started talking to Phil. He told him stories of the circus, of the animals he had taken care of, the shitty jobs he had had, being part of the team putting up the tents and taking them down, moving from city to city and doing it all over again, the people who had taken care of him, the foods they had eaten and the first time he walked the high wire. He carefully did not talk about his brother or a 'mentor' or any of his shooting abilities. But it was enough to put his head back together. And Phil got a glimpse of a young man who'd had a hard life.

            "So I never got past 6th grade officially, although I managed to get a GED thing eventually. I don't read well. Haven't found anything fun worth reading." Clint paused and realized he had been talking for a couple of hours. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and continued,

            "I never had anyone to tell stories to before.  All I can do is shoot stuff. Some lousy dumb friend, huh?"

            "No! I enjoyed your stories. Highlights the advantages of the slow down plan. And how many people do you think can shoot like you? No one! But that isn't the only thing you can do. You are not dumb. Merely under educated. We can fix that. How would you like to learn to do something very few people even at SHIELD can do?" Phil asked. They walked together to get the arrows from the other end of the range.

            Clint tilted his head in curiosity. "Like what?"

            "Like fly a plane." Phil replied, "I will set you up with flying lessons on Monday. You would be great at it."

            "Yes," Clint shouted pumping his fist, "What kind of plane?"

            "How about every kind of plane? You can start with something small and continue lessons as long as you want and learn to fly every plane SHIELD has. I'm not sure Fury would actually _let_ you fly the hellicarrier but it wouldn't be because you don't know how. In fact, there are a lot of things you can do. You can train other snipers, learn whatever we teach, train baby agents, spar with other agents, suggest new stuff to R &D, suggest a rebuild for the shooting range, all kinds of things."

            Clint stood still in shock. "I didn't know. I didn't know I could be allowed to do all that. I thought only the baby agents sparred with each other. I was so wrapped up in myself I never looked around me. I'm not just a bad friend, I'm a bad agent."

            "No, you're not. You just weren't ready. I could see that. That's why you stayed at Level 2 for so long. And now you ARE ready. You can choose whatever you like. We'll talk about it at work tomorrow. I'll show you how to look up the choices. Now, are you hungry? Let's go eat."

            Clint laughed feeling better than he had in several years. He packed his bow back in its case with the arrows and then put his black hoodie on. He hugged Phil and kissed the corner of his mouth.

            "Yes, my Ninja friend. Let's go eat."

*****

            Clint and Phil sat eating at a diner near Clint's apartment. Phil was eating pancakes and Clint was eating an omelet. Even though it was almost noon on Sunday, they were still eating breakfast. The whole weekend felt like a wild roller coaster ride. Telling Phil some of his circus stories left him feeling tired. He had kept so much in for so long that letting even some of it out was exhausting.

            "Is this what it feels like to talk to someone in Psych?" Clint asked Phil.

            "I can only guess at what you're feeling so I'd have to say _Sometimes_. You've only talked about the happy parts so far. Talking about the unhappy parts is hard but necessary and will also leave you feeling like a dishrag. But you need to go through it so you can let it go and be able to deal with it," Phil advised.

            "Maybe I should make an appointment. Getting out of my own head might help me be a better agent and a better friend," Clint admitted.

            "That's very brave of you. You won't be sorry. No one will know what you talk about with Psych. No, not even me," said Phil.

            "Wow, I have a lot of stuff to do on Monday, "said Clint. Then he thought a bit more about the whole weekend and asked, "Did Mad Dog find any good things at the flea market?"

            "I left the tent about 2 minutes after you and went searching for you."

            Clint's face was stricken, "No. I messed up that whole thing for you? A 2-hour drive each way? And I messed it up? I'm still doing it. I'm still thinking only about myself and not about anyone else. And that vendor's not coming back for like 6 months? I'm sorry. So sorry." Clint was working himself into a panic attack.

            Phil's face remained calm. He put his hand over Clint's. This was the one thing he was sure about.

            "Clint. I called the mission the second you were compromised. It's just a hobby. You are much more important. Let me say that again." Phil tightened his hand, " You are _much_ more important. I didn't know the poster was you. I'm sorry I mocked it. You are the greatest marksman I've ever seen and I wasn't accepting anyone else's claim. When you panicked and ran, I looked at it again and recognized your eyes. I'm sad that it hurt you so much but you know what? Maybe it's not all bad. I'm glad that you were able to tell me stories about your life in the circus."

            Clint looked at Phil. "You are so much more than I ever imagined. I don't deserve a friend like you. Now I wish I wasn't so hasty and looked at it closer. It's been a lot of years since I've seen it and it was a shock. I wish I could have bought it. I don't have anything on my walls. Maybe seeing it more would dull the shock."

            Phil's ears went bright red. Clint noticed right away.

            "Wait, what did I say? What else am I screwing up?"

            Phil hurried to reassure him. "No, you didn't say anything wrong. I just did something that, um, I don't know how to tell you about."

            "And what is that?"

            "I bought the poster," Phil admitted, "Otherwise I would have grabbed you before you got into the woods."  Clint stared at him stunned then said,

            "You were born a Ninja, weren't you?"

            Phil smiled then said, "I guess I have good instincts every once in a while. Are you finished? We can go if you want." He paused then went on, "It's been a while since I've had a friend who is more than just a colleague at SHIELD. I don't want to go home."

            "So don't go home yet. You can help me shop for a few groceries and maybe some beer then we'll go back to my place and throw on a football game and just chill on the couch." Clint got up to pay the bill and Phil followed him out.

***

            The football game was on with low sound. It was only meant to be background noise. Clint had put away the groceries he bought. Phil watched, seeing where everything went without being too nosy. They had bought 2 kinds of beer. A popular brand and a local IPA, arguing good naturedly about the properties of each. A taste test would have to wait until the bottles were chilled.

            "We can have some later with pizza," Clint suggested.

            "Sounds great," Phil agreed.

            They sat down on the couch to watch the game but ended up talking about favorite pizza toppings and which place had the best pizza. In 10 minutes, they were both asleep.

            _I'm dreaming. How is this real?_ Phil thought as he woke a couple hours later. The chest under his cheek rumbled with laughter and Phil realized he had said the words out loud.

            "Okay that's embarrassing," Phil admitted. Clint laughed again.

            "That's usually my line."

            "At least I didn't drool on you," Phil said getting up to go to the bathroom where he quickly placed a pizza order from his phone.

            When he came back, Clint was in the kitchen wading through a handful of menus. Phil took them out of his hands and tucked them back into the open drawer. He hugged Clint and laid a kiss on his lips that was guaranteed to make him forget whatever he was doing. Clint responded to the kiss with a tiny whimper deep in his throat and wrapped his arms around Phil. When they were out of breath, Phil lifted his head.

            "I already ordered the pizza and it's coming from a place that is Jasper Sitwell approved."

            "What do you mean?"

            "Oh, you don't know?" Phil laughed. "Jasper Sitwell has made it his life's work to find the best places to eat in every city around the world. Or at least the cities he's been to. That includes fancy places, medium-priced places, cheap eats and every ethnic choice you can imagine. And the best places to eat within walking distance of SHIELD. I very much value his guidance because he has never steered me wrong yet. The Copper Kettle was his idea. I had never eaten there before but he knew the chef personally and introduced me to him and helped convince him to try making your purple macaroni and cheese."

            Clint's head was spinning from the kiss and all this new information. He had no words and just looked at Phil with a happy little grin on his face.

            "Uh oh, I broke your brain again, didn't I?"

            Clint laughed and pecked a kiss on Phil's lips and let him go. "Yup, breaking my brain is your Ninja super skill. Want some water? We can save the beer until the pizza gets here. I don't want to drink too much. Got a lot of stuff to do tomorrow."

            "Sure," Phil agreed catching the bottle of water that Clint threw to him from the fridge. "Pizza will be here in 20 minutes. Just in time for _Dog Cops_."

            "What kind did you get?" asked Clint, "I know we don't like all the same toppings."

            "Hey, I got your back." Phil said sitting on the couch, "You will be happy, I promise. In the meantime, I can think of something else to do that might break your brain some more."

            "Damn Ninja," Clint murmured sitting down on the couch and leaning into Phil's open arms.           


End file.
